Redemption Song
by Wench of Diablos
Summary: Deep in the desert of North Esthar exists a Garden known only as Black. Its purpose and location are known only to a few, and it is a place from which it's cadets can never hope to escape. For them, it is either a prison or a second chance. For their Commander, it's a chance to redeem himself and change the fate of a few lost children. Mature themes. Rating may change.
1. Chapter 1

**REDEMPTION SONG**

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

* * *

_One year before the 2__nd__ Sorceress War….._

_I'm too young to be a father_, he thought. _I have my whole career ahead of me. I'm not even old enough to drink, for Hyne's sake._

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Very," she said.

"But it was only once, and we were careful!" he bellowed.

"Not careful enough, I guess," she said.

She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked up at him, looking small and young and helpless and completely unlike the girl he'd fallen for. That girl was spirited, rebellious, and opinionated and always had a plan. He felt like he didn't even know her now.

"What do you want me to do about it?" he asked.

"What do you want to do about it?"

"I don't know!" he cried. "How the hell did this happen?"

The way she looked at him then made him angry. As if he was a disappointment to her. As if he hadn't given her then answer she'd expected, but he didn't know what she wanted him to say. This news was unexpected and unwanted and he needed her to tell him what she wanted. He wasn't the one who would be carrying the kid and he felt like it was her decision, not his. Wasn't that the way it worked?

"I don't need to explain biology to you, do I?" she asked.

"Funny," he said. "Really funny."

They sat there in silence, not wanting to look at each other, and neither with anything to say that could make the situation any better.

"What would you do if you were me?" she asked.

What would he do? A teenager with no future outside of SeeD, no home and no income to provide for a child? What option was there? He'd always assumed he would be a father one day if he didn't die in battle, but he couldn't be one now. They were too young and too unprepared. Maybe in a few years, once he was earning a decent salary and could afford to care for a child, but not now. If she was asking what he wanted, there was only one option for him, so he told her the truth.

"You have to give it up," he said.

Apparently, that wasn't what she wanted to hear. Her choked sob was the only answer he got before she fled the room.

* * *

Over the next few months, he thought long and hard about that conversation. He, like many other SeeD cadets was orphan, a child someone had abandoned or discarded. It hadn't been easy growing up knowing that no one had wanted him. He remembered watching other children who had parents with great envy, wanting to know the comfort of a mother's arms and the protection of a father. He thought about the child they'd created together and knew that his flesh and blood would face the same fate if he didn't man up and take responsibility. He'd vowed a long time ago that when he did become a father, he would never allow his children to want for anything. To do anything less was shameful.

It was another month before he found the courage to pick up the phone. He needed to tell her that he'd changed his mind, that they would find a way to make it work, some how, some way, they would make it work.

"It's too late," she said, when he told her he'd had a change of heart.

"What do you mean, too late?"

"I…miscarried. There is no baby."

There was a sob in her voice as she said this, and he was both saddened and relieved by the news. He was glad to be rid of the burden of fatherhood, but surprised to know how deeply rooted the kernel of desire to be a father had become.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Are you okay?"

"I guess," she said. "I'm dealing."

"I'm sorry I acted like an ass," he said. "I don't want things to end with you hating me."

"I don't hate you. You were right. We're too young."

There was something odd in her tone that he couldn't quite place, but he decided that it was because she was trying to hide her pain from him. If she sounded weird, it was because she was grieving.

"But we're over, aren't we?" he asked. "After everything, it wouldn't be the same, would it?"

"Do you see any way that it would work out?"

"No."

"Can we still be friends?"

"Yeah. We can still be friends."

He said it like a promise, but it was a promise he knew he couldn't keep. She was right. They were too far apart and from two very different worlds. Fate would eventually take them in different directions and time would erase whatever affection they'd had for one another. It would be a hard lesson for her, but one he was already accustomed to.

* * *

CHAPTER ONE

* * *

_Sixteen years later..._

I'll be the first one to tell you, I'm a fuck up, but then, everything about my life has been fucked up, so what do you expect? It's not an excuse, exactly, but it's kind of hard to give a damn about anything when no one ever gave a damn about me. I'd grown up in an orphanage and the foster care system of Galbadia, which might as well have been called 'Rent a Brat,' because that's pretty much what it was. It was never for keeps, and in most cases, I didn't want it to be. Maybe most of those foster parents started out with good intentions, but you know, there's a reason they say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I'm walking proof that sometimes, even the _best _of intentions turn out to be the absolute worst thing you can do. I mean, the only thing I learned in foster care was to never trust anyone, no matter how kind they may seem. Kindness is a double edged sword sometimes, and sometimes it was that so-called _kindness _that ended up hurting the worst.

I ended up at Garden at age ten because I was too damaged and too bitter to ever be adopted, and Garden is where they send the unlovable kids with nowhere else to go. Actually, it's a mixed bag here. About half of us are orphans. The other half are those idealistic types that came from decent families and they actually _wanted _to be here. Their parents actually pay good money for them to train at Garden. Personally, I think they're idiots. I didn't have a choice about being here, but they did.

I had a feeling my stay at Balamb Garden was about to come to an end, though. Part of me was a little sad about that. After all, it was the only place I'd ever lived where I wasn't abused or ignored.

I saw my expulsion coming, though, and I won't lie and say it wasn't my fault. I'd failed my third SeeD field exam because I went off and found some rebel insurgents to kill instead of sticking to the plan, which involved guarding a group of unarmed citizens who didn't have the good sense to leave the danger zone when they heard bombs going off. A bunch of morons if you ask me, but whatever. Like I was going to sit around baby-sitting while there was action to be had. That's just not my style, and to my credit, I personally took out the second in command without even breaking a sweat. Not that it mattered. I'd disobeyed orders, and orders were all this place cared about.

When Commander Leonhart called me to his office after the final exam, I flopped down into one of the leather chairs near his desk and casually began to inspect my nails, which were painted a shade of purple called _Bruise Violet_. The color was beginning to flake off a little around the tips and I started to slowly chip away at the remaining paint, already bored and ready to get out of there.

I ignored the disappointed look Leonhart was giving me. I knew I was about to be expelled, and I didn't care. He could have just spared me the lecture I knew was coming, told me to leave and saved himself the bother. I had no friends to speak of at Balamb anyway, and while I enjoyed the training, there wasn't much else about the place I liked. All I did was train and go to class, and Balamb wasn't exactly a bustling mecca of excitement, so being given leave to go to town wasn't what I would have called a privilege.

As I waited for Leonhart to speak, I thought about maybe heading off to Deling City just for the hell of it. I was certain someone there could use my skill with a gunblade or my extensive martial arts training, and if not, I'd find other work. Being on my own sounded like a pretty sweet deal to me, anyway. No curfews, no foster parents, no instructors or Garden staff telling me what I could and couldn't do. Absolute freedom. Maybe once I was free, I could finally find some peace and some kind of purpose, because I sure as hell wasn't going to find it here.

I glanced up at Leonhart when he cleared his throat and gave him a look that said I wasn't in the mood for lectures. I knew what I did wrong and he didn't have to tell me.

"Your actions today were uncalled for, Miri," Leonhart said. "But I suspect you already know that."

"Whatever," I muttered and returned my attention to flaking off the rest of the paint from my thumb nail.

Leonhart was silent for nearly a minute, which was making me a little nervous. Why was he drawing this out? Why not just expel me and get it over with?

"Here's the what bothers me about what you did today," Leonhart said, leaning back in his chair. "I've seen you fight. You're damned good. Probably the best cadet we have right now, and I think you've got a lot of potential. We all know that. You could have breezed through that exam and graduated with honors, but you chose to disobey a direct order and put your entire squad in danger."

"There was no danger," I said, giving him a level stare. "We were just standing there. Doing nothing."

"But that's what you were ordered to do, Miri."

I just shrugged and flaked away more nail polish. Who cared? It was over and done with.

"You've got a lousy attitude," he said.

I looked up at him, brushed the hair out of my eyes and stared at him.

"Your point is?" I asked.

"You know I could expel you for what you did today. Taking off in the middle of an exam, leaving your team in danger, following your own made up objectives? Those aren't qualities we look for in a leader."

"So expel me. See if I care," I said, taking care to keep calm voice calm, but bored. "It's not like I wanted to be a leader anyway. I mean, we all know why I'm here. Not like I had a choice or anything."

Leonhart looked guilty for a split second, which pleased me. He templed his hands together and looked down at the desk.

"I'm not going to expel you."

Well, that was a surprise.

"Why not," I asked, indignant.

I was almost disappointed. I was kind of looking forward to running amok all by myself in the City of Night, among the drunks and the addicts and the criminals. I wanted to make my own way, live my own life, on my terms. I was practically begging him for it, for Hyne's sake.

"Because I have plans for you. Something more suited to your temperament."

* * *

The girl was a pain in the ass. Plain and simple. Yet Squall saw something in her that no one else did, and in a way she reminded him of Seifer, back in the days when he'd been a cocky bully. He saw the same fiery, powerful spirit in her emerald eyes that Seifer had back then, and he knew that cutting Miri loose now would only lead to disaster. Her life and her talent would be wasted. He could see her future and it looked grim. Overworked and underpaid service in the G-army, or worse, working with a rogue mercenary force and getting herself in deep trouble. Expelling her would only doom her to a life of more misery, anger and bitterness.

Luckily, there was a place for talented, troublesome pain-in-the-ass brats like Miri Heart.

Three years ago, a secret facility had been constructed in Esthar, built specifically to train kids like Miri and put them to good use. So far, it had been a smashing success. Twenty-two problem children had graduated and had become part of an ultra-secret division known only as Black. Those graduates were the best of the best, as far as Squall was concerned, and they were trusted to carry out complicated, dangerous missions that no one else would touch.

Deep down, Squall knew that Miri was a good kid, but she'd had a lousy life. At age seven, she'd been removed from her first foster home because of suspected sexual abuse. At age eight, she got thrown out of her second foster home for beating up her foster brother. By age ten, she'd been in six different foster homes, and removed from a seventh after her foster father beat her within an inch of her life for mouthing off.

At that point, she'd been sent to Garden because there was nowhere else she could go. No one wanted to foster her, she was too unruly for the orphanage, and too young to try and fend for herself. Garden had been the best possible solution, for everyone's sake.

The problem was, Miri didn't see it that way.

She had a chip on her shoulder the size of the Centra continent, and a smart mouth, and she didn't care about anything, not even herself. Squall had seen it a thousand times over the years. A talented, smart kid who had the potential to go far, if only she had a reason to care.

"Your train leaves at seven," Squall said, without explaining himself. Best that she not know anything yet.

"I thought you weren't going to expel me," Miri said, indifferent.

"I'm not," Squall said. He hit the intercom button on his phone. "Xu, send Fujin in please."

Squall returned his attention to Miri, giving her a critical once over. This was going to be tough on her, not that she'd show it. In the end, if all went well, Miri would shine. At least, Squall hoped so. The program wasn't fail-proof, but it was up to Miri whether she succeeded or not.

"Fujin will accompany you to your room. Pack your things. I'll be by to get you in an hour."

* * *

In the vehicle, I sat looking sulkily out the window, my arms crossed as I watched the scenery pass. Leonhart hadn't explained anything, and he wasn't interested talking. I sneaked a glance at him, wondering how a guy like him had managed to save the world. He seemed so calm. Not cocky or proud, not at all like I'd expected after I'd read the best seller about the Ultimecia Incident. The book had made him seem like such a confident, strong leader. A man worthy of being called a hero. The first time I laid eyes on him, I expected trumpets to sound or something, but he was just this quiet, humble guy. Sure, there was a kind of charisma about him, but beyond that, I didn't see where they'd gotten all that fierce, proud leader stuff from.

"You going to tell me where were going?" I finally asked.

"Esthar."

I stared at him, waiting for further explanation. There wasn't one, so I pushed for details.

"What's in Esthar?"

"Your last chance," Squall said. Then he clammed up again.

I knew there would be no more information from him. I was tempted to demand to know exactly what was in store for me, to threaten to jump from the vehicle unless he spelled it out for me, but I had the feeling it wouldn't do any good. He'd probably just stop the vehicle and put me back in and handcuff me to the seat or something. Frustrated, I slumped against the window and closed my eyes.

Esthar, hunh? Well, that sounded even more interesting than becoming a panhandling street urchin in Deling City like I'd planned. I'd never been to Esthar, but I'd heard that it was something to behold. A city unlike any other , with technology that would blow my mind. Maybe things were looking up.

But, what would he do with me once we were there?

* * *

It was late afternoon the next day when we finally arrived in Esthar. At the train station, we were met by two young men in black uniforms, who nodded silently at Leonhart. Who the hell were these guys? Prison guards? Members of some weird cult? I wanted to ask, but I kept my mouth shut, knowing that Leonhart wouldn't tell me even if I begged him, which I wouldn't do.

I followed them to an unmarked vehicle, got in and slumped down in my seat. This sucked. Leonhart was probably the most boring person I'd ever met, we were in Esthar, and all I could see was the long tunnel beneath the city ahead of us, and there was absolutely nothing for me to look at. I had hoped I would at least get to see the skyline and maybe some of those weird transport tube things I'd heard about.

When we finally reached the end of the tunnel, we surfaced in the middle of the desert, with nothing around us but sand dunes and cactus. Maybe he was taking me to prison after all. I couldn't imagine much else being out here beyond military munitions depots, research laboratories and prisons.

We headed north, toward a distant mountain range and around sunset, we arrived at a tall, boring structure that looked like an office building. I wondered what this was. Strange to see an office building out in the middle of nowhere, sandwiched between the desert and the mountains, a hundred miles from civilization. It made no sense, but I figured if I asked, I wouldn't get more than a one word answer, if that.

"Take her things to her room," Squall told the young men once we'd parked inside an underground Garage. They gave him another silent nod and unloaded my meager belongings from the back of the vehicle. I wondered if they were robots. They certainly acted like it.

From the Garage, Squall lead me to an elevator and we went down, instead of up. Things were getting weirder by the minute. Whatever this was, I suspected things were not exactly going to be fun. Maybe this was a secret research facility and I was going to be their newest test subject. Or maybe, it really was a prison. I hadn't a clue, but my mind, ever inventive, came up with a thousand bizarre possibilities, each more grim than the last.

When we stepped off the elevator, I looked around in surprise.

"What the-" I muttered.

"Welcome to Esthar Garden," Squall said.

"It looks just like Balamb," I said, turning around to take in a three sixty view of a nearly exact replica of the main circular corridor at Balamb Garden.

"It is, in some ways," he said cryptically.

So, basically, he was just pawning me off on another Garden. Gee, what a great idea. Get rid of me so that I wasn't his problem child anymore. Exactly how was that supposed to solve the problem? It solved his problems, but not mine. But that was the story of my life. I moved from one hell to the next, survived it and then moved on. How exciting for me.

"I'll give you the tour before we meet the commander."

Well, he was right about one thing. This Garden was different than Balamb. For one thing, the library was bigger, with a massive section of Battle Strategy materials, a room with twenty or so computers with interlink connections, private study areas suitable for small groups to study or work on projects together and a media room containing newsreels, a couple of microfiche machines and an archive of newspapers from all over the world, dating back at least a hundred years. I didn't say so, but I was impressed. Also, the Quad wasn't outdoors, but fully enclosed and contained various activity rooms, a lounge for off duty SeeDs that somewhat resembled a night club, pool tables, an ice skating rink, what looked like a freaking water park, a weapon and equipment shop, an item shop and a small pharmacy and grocery.

But it was the training center that blew my mind. The first section was similar to the one at Balamb, but larger and with different climate zones-forest, desert, and mountains where an impressive selection of holographic monsters roamed. In addition to that, though, there were several other areas to simulate real world landscapes, such as a bombed out city street, complete with ruined vehicles, rubble and debris. Or the replica of Esthar's business district, and what looked like a tunnel or sewer system. There were a few interior sections as well: an office, a classy looking restaurant, and a large shopping center. There was also a state of the art gym, a swimming pool, a firing range, a jogging track and a basketball court.

This, I could totally get on board with. I could spend my entire day at the training center if they let me.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Leonhart asked.

I nodded slowly and looked around, thinking about how much fun I could have in a place like this.

From the corner of my eye, I saw something moving quickly but stealthily toward us. My first glimpse was nothing more than a hint of something gold and gray, then a flash of steel as it ducked behind some dense foliage. We were being followed.

Suddenly, a man leapt from the bushes onto the path, blade raised as if to attack. Without thinking, I seized Leonhart's blade, which he carried in a sheath on his back, and went on the offensive, striking the attacker before he could strike at us. The man was caught off guard for only a moment, and came at me again, executing a spin slash that I might have stopped to admire if he wasn't the enemy. Had I not spun out of the way in time to avoid it, it would have been a devastating blow. Using the momentum of the spin, I swung the blade around and struck him on the side, then quickly went into a combination spin kick combined with a blade strike that was one of my own special moves. My foot hit him in the midsection at the same time the blade caught him across the chest.

It surprised him, but he recovered faster than I would have liked and he slashed at me, becoming the aggressor. I parried the attack, but he hit Leonhart's blade so hard that it was knocked out of my hand. It spun away from me and landed out of reach. Grinning, the man slashed at me again, and I ducked, just in time to avoid getting my head sliced off. Instead of running or backing down, I stuck with the fight, using what martial arts training I had to avoid his attacks. When he stepped forward to strike at me again, I dropped low and swept out my leg, knocking him to the ground. He fell with a heavy thud and his blade clattered to the floor beside him. I snatched it up and placed my boot on his chest, glaring down at his surprised face.

I was pissed, but triumphant as I looked down at him. Whomever he was, he was older, with sandy blonde hair, vivid green eyes and a ugly scar on his forehead, just like the one Leonhart sported. And he was pretty good, considering he was probably about twenty years older than me.

Hmm. Familiar.

"Who the hell are you?" I asked.

The next thing, I knew, I was face down on the ground. He'd thrown me off him so quickly and so skillfully, I wasn't sure how he'd done it. Seeing red, I scrambled to my feet, just as he and Leonhart shook hands, greeting one another like old friends.

What the hell was going on here?

The man gave me a once over and nodded at Leonhart.

"Definitely got some talent," he told Leonhart. "Sure you don't want to keep her as a body guard? I was gunning for you, man."

Leonhart smirked. "I saw you."

"She beat you to it, hunh?" the man laughed. "You're getting old. And slow."

"Looks like you are too."

The man chuckled and cast a glance my way.

"Maybe I am. Never been bested by a girl. Especially not one half my age."

"Shall we?" Leonhart asked. He retrieved his blade and sheathed it, giving me an odd look out of the corner of his eye.

"No time like the present," the man said and ran his fingers through his hair, fluffing it up a bit, as if the fight had messed it up.

The whole conversation irritated me, mostly because the guy was sexist. And they were talking about me like I wasn't even there. And who was this guy, anyway? I didn't think he could be the guy in charge. He was way too relaxed and casual for that. So if he wasn't the leader of this mysterious Garden, who the hell was he?

I followed them down to an office three floors below the main hall, wondering why all this was underground. It seemed terribly odd to me. I mean, why all the secrecy? I didn't get it. Everyone knew about Garden, and Esthar was a logical choice to build a fourth one. Yet it was hidden away under Hyne knew how many feet of earth in a remote corner of the country, between nowhere and nothing.

The office was similar to Leonhart's, though the art on the walls was far more interesting. Here, there were true works of art, not the dull still lifes Leonhart seemed to favor. I followed the series of paintings, each depicting the GF's. The styles varied, but each was interesting in its own right. In particular, I liked the almost abstract depiction of Diablos bathing in the flames of hell, thousands of minions fighting, fucking, or stabbing one another at the devil's feet. But I was drawn to one of a more realistic style of a nude Siren upon the rocks, coaxing a ship full of handsome sailors to their doom at her feet. The contrast between the sunset washed sky and the ultramarine ocean was startling, but lovely. The Siren's face and hands were so beautifully and realistically rendered, she almost looked like a photograph taken of a real woman in an unreal world. There was something familiar about that face, though I couldn't place it.

The signature on both works read _S. Acosta_.

I studied the entire series, twelve of them, all done by the same artist. I couldn't help but be intrigued.

"You're interested in art?" the man asked, taking a seat behind the large walnut desk.

"Not in particular," I said. "These are interesting, though."

"One of our current cadets paints them. Never enjoyed art myself, until I saw these and now I have to have them all," he said. "Which do you like best?"

I thought about that, wondering why he cared.

"The Siren."

He smiled at me then. "Mine too," he said. "Why?"

"The detail, I guess. The colors."

He smiled at me as if I was his best friend. He sat back, silent for a moment, just looking at me. I gave him my patented level, but bored stare as I finally took a seat in front of his desk.

"So," the blonde man said. "You're Miri Heart."

"Yeah. What of it?"

The man's eyes narrowed. He was no longer smiling. Without that charming, boyish smile of his, he looked downright menacing. I might have been afraid of him if I could have brought myself to care.

"I can see we've got some work to do. Starting with your attitude."

I raised an eyebrow at him, challenging him to do something about it. There wasn't much he could do to me that hadn't already been done. I was pretty much numb to pain, suffering or any other punishment he could think of. I'd already been starved, beaten within an inch of my life, molested, abused and neglected. Whatever he planned to dish out, I could take.

"Miri, this is Commander Seifer Almasy," Leonhart said, made anxious by our silent stare down.

Almasy. So that was why he looked familiar. The Knight. The _murderer._

"They let_ you _have a Garden?" I asked, purposely trying to sound as disrespectful as possible. Then I turned my eyes toward Leonhart. "Are you trying to open the floodgates to hell, or have you lost your mind?"

I could tell it pissed Almasy off, but the idea of the man who started the second Sorceress War being left in charge of training a bunch of kids to be mercenaries in what was apparently a secret Garden was absolutely _insane_. I was willing to bet that no one knew about this, or the public outcry would have been so loud, this place would have been swallowed up by the very earth that protected it.

"You're here as a last resort and you should consider yourself _lucky _that Commander Leonhart didn't throw you out on your ass after that stunt you pulled," Almasy said.

"Bully for me," I said, leaning back in my chair. I was prepared to show him exactly how bad my attitude was.

"Get smart with me and you'll wish you hadn't," Almasy snarled. "This isn't the kind of place where we let things slide. You either cooperate or you suffer the consequences. Simple as that."

"In my experience, whether or not I cooperate, I _still _end up suffering," I said coolly. "So go ahead and do your worst."

Almasy's expression softened a little. He sent a glance at Leonhart, who nodded and got up, leaving the two of us alone.

"I understand that your life has been pretty fucked up," Almasy said. "Six foster homes in four years. That's a tough break."

I was so shocked by the fact that he'd cursed in front of me that I didn't have a comeback. I grudgingly had to give him a little more respect due to the fact that he wasn't trying to be an administrative asshole like the rest of them. Except, I didn't like him talking about my past as if it was an open book. He had no idea what I'd been through and he had no right to bring it up.

"Seven," I finally said, trying to keep myself under control. No way would I let him know how much it bothered me that he knew all this. "_Seven _foster homes in four years."

"I bet what you've been through makes it hard to give a damn about anything. Am I right?"

"What the hell would you know about it?" I asked, bitter and suspicious.

"I know because I've been there. Except I was that kid that no one even wanted to foster. And I was a fuck up with a lousy attitude, and a whole lot of potential, just like you are."

"Let me guess, this is some kind of intervention, right? To save me from myself? To keep me from screwing up as bad as you did?"

"No. Only you can keep you from screwing up."

"Then why am I here?"

"That all depends on you, kid."

"So then, I have a choice."

"I can't let you walk out of here, no. You're here for life, whether you like it or not," Almasy said. "And this place can either be your prison or it can be your salvation. But that's up to_ you_."

I wasn't sure what he meant by, _here for life_. So I pushed for some clarification.

"So, say I screw up really bad, like epically bad. You're not going to kick me out?"

"No. You'll spend a lot of time in the brig, but you won't be leaving. _Ever_."

So this was a prison after all. They didn't seriously expect me to live underground for the rest of my life, did they? That was just nuts, and they were nuts for thinking it would work. Or that they could keep me here if didn't want to be here.

"You can't make me stay forever."

"Yeah, I can," Almasy said confidently. "And if you try to escape, you'll be shot on sight."

I laughed out loud. He was so full of crap. He wouldn't seriously shoot a cadet for trying to escape. However, when I looked into his eyes, I saw that he was dead serious.

"You're not kidding, are you?"

"No," he said. "This place is top secret. No one knows it exists except Squall and his wife, President Loire and those of us who live and work here. Now that _you_know about it, I can't let you leave. I'm sorry, but that's just the way it is."

"You've got to be friggin' kidding me," I muttered to myself.

Just when I thought maybe things were looking up, I'd gone from cast off problem child to a hostage for life. I wanted to get up and walk out of there, to make him live up to his threat, but something in his face told me that he'd do it and wouldn't think twice. For some reason, death didn't sound like the best option.

Almasy eyed me for a few long, uncomfortable seconds. I waited for him to speak.

"So what is this place?" I finally asked when he didn't say anything. "Why all the secrecy?"

An enigmatic smile played across Almasy's face. In spite of everything so far, there was something about him that made me want to like him. But I had to remember all the things he'd been accused of during the war and knew that he was a miserable human being. He was to be my jailor and I his hostage and I couldn't like him.

"This place is a last resort. A place for kids like you, kids with emotional problems, damaged kids. Talented kids with nowhere else to go."

"Oh, how special! I'm at _Camp Fuck-up_," I said with false enthusiasm. "And you think you can change me? Teach me a little _discipline _and everything will be just peachy?"

"Again_ that's up to you_. You make whatever you want of this place. You can take advantage of the lessons you learn here or you can be miserable."

"And what kind of lesson am I supposed to learn?" I asked, wondering if there was a way to tunnel out of here. "How to take over the world in thirty days? How to be a sociopathic megalomaniac with no conscience? 101 ways to please a Sorceress?"

He ignored my comments, though I could tell he wasn't pleased by them.

"Things you wouldn't learn at any other Garden, or any other military organization in the world."

"You can drop the mysterious act, Commander. Just spill it."

Almasy sat back in his chair, as if thinking it over.

"All right," he finally agreed. "This is a Garden, but not officially. Officially, we don't exist. On the books we are a data storage facility, specializing in personnel record storage and archival."

Despite myself, I found this interesting. Record storage was boring enough to guarantee that no one would be interested in investigating the place, that was for sure. But, once again, I wondered what exactly went on here that was so secret that they'd built the Garden underground and had to hide its existence from the world.

"You've heard of the White SeeDs?" he asked.

"Yeah. Pretty tough group," I said. "Robotic, but tough."

I'd had a few encounters with the ones that guarded Leonhart's wife, and they were a pretty solid group of fighters, though they were also a bunch of mindless drones. I wondered if that's what this place did.

"Well, we're tougher. A lot tougher. I like to use the term hardcore, because that's what we are. There isn't a military force in the world better trained than we are."

I made a mental note never to use the word_ hardcore _again.

"And what exactly_ are _you, if this isn't really a Garden?" I asked, wishing he'd get to the point.

"We're _Black_. We are the baddest of the bad, and the best of the best. We handle the dirtiest, most dangerous work there is. Around here, our motto is, if it ain't dangerous, it ain't worth doing."

Almasy added a hearty baritone chuckle to this statement and looked pleased with himself.

Well, that got my imagination going, let me tell you. That was the most interesting thing anyone had said to me all day, and the prospect of doing dirty, dangerous work intrigued me.

"What kind of stuff are we talking about?" I asked, wishing I could keep the note of curiosity out of my voice. I didn't want him to know that I might actually be interested in all this cloak and dagger stuff.

"We do the stuff no one else will do. Assassination, espionage, hacking, undercover work, sabotage, kidnapping, theft. You name it, we do it."

"That sounds like terrorism."

"Well, depends on which side of the fence you're on," Almasy said. "I can't give any details, but let's just say a lot of bad shit has been avoided because of us. Around the world, there are pockets of dissenters, insurgents and outright lunatics. People who would use any means to get what they want. A lot going on beneath the surface that no one ever hears about, and that's mostly because we have managed to contain it."

"Huh."

If this was all true, then what went on here was much more intensive than anything I'd learned at Balamb Garden. Despite my implied disinterest and my reluctance to go along with all this at first, I was now intrigued enough to play ball.

Seifer was silent for a minute, staring down at what I assumed was my file. Finally, he looked up at me and leaned forward, propping his arms against the desk.

"You're here because of your_ talent_, not just because you screwed up," he said, sounding sincere. "Squall tells me you're one of the best fighters he's ever had, and after fighting you earlier, I know for a fact that's true. Thing is, around here, that's not enough. About twenty teams of six students compete each semester for a slot within the _Black_ ranks. Only one team makes it, and the _whole team _has to pass the exam or no one makes it. There are a lot of talented kids here and this is a whole different game than what you're used to. Everything you do from here on out will factor into whether or not you make it. You'll be graded from the minute you walk out that door. And assuming you pass the final exam and you and your team earn yourselves that coveted spot, you will spend six months training in a specialty area. Computers, espionage, undercover, sharpshooting, Intel, and the like."

I didn't like the whole_ team work _angle. I wasn't a team player. I didn't play well with others. I was an individual, and I kept to myself. However, all this deep cover, espionage spy crap sucked me in. It was how I imagined SeeD would be when I first arrived at Garden when I was ten.

"That said, let's talk about what's expected of you," Almasy continued, focusing his green eyes on me. "Here, you won't be able to get away with the shit you pulled back in Balamb. What you considered a right there is a privilege here. You have to earn your free time and those little luxuries you are used to."

"Like what?" I asked, wondering what exactly he thought of as a privilege.

He flashed me a smile that was almost cruel. It made me want to curl up into a ball and protect my head.

"Well, since you got smart with me, more than once, the minute you walk out of this office, you will not be allowed to speak to anyone, not even your instructors, no matter what they say to you for a week. You break your silence, you spend a week in solitary. Behave yourself, and you earn the right to speak again."

"I'm not doing that," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. Sarcasm was the only defense I had besides my blade.

"You'll do it or you'll spend two weeks in solitary, in the dark. Your choice."

I glared at him, now defiant and angry that he thought he could control me.

"You think that'll break me?" I scoffed.

"I know it will. You'll go nuts after a day," he said confidently. He leaned forward and stared directly into my eyes, which, I have to admit, was a little unnerving. I could totally see how this guy had manipulated people back in the day and got them to obey his commands. He was intimidating. Even to me.

"Trust me on that," he said. "You're not all that tough, kid. You act like you are, but I see right through it. Deep down, you're scared to death that someone will figure out that you really just want someone to give a shit. You don't know what you did to deserve the lousy hand life dealt you and it hurts like hell to think about the things you had to live through, doesn't it?"

"You don't know shit about me," I hissed, feeling like I might just have to kill him if he said any more.

He'd touched a nerve, and he was right, no matter how much I wanted to deny it. Deep down, I had always wondered why some kids got parents that loved and protected them, while others, like me got nothing but heartbreak.

"Behind all that bravado is a scared little girl with a lot of baggage and wounds that won't heal," he continued giving me a knowing look, "and after a couple hours of sitting in the dark, _all alone_, you're going to start thinking about those things. About all the horrible shit you've been through. You're going to think about the guy that molested you when you were too young to fight back, maybe even remember in detail what he did to you. You'll think about the foster father that beat the shit out of you so badly you almost died. You'll wonder about your parents and if they just decided to give you up, or if something awful happened to them. Every wrong, every mistake, every letdown and disappointment, every single wound you ever received will open up and start to bleed, and it _will_break you. Sooner than you think."

Hot angry tears sprang to my eyes and I got to my feet. I absolutely hated that he knew these things about me. I hated Leonhart for passing it along. I never wanted anyone to know about my past or about the terrible things that had happened during my childhood. I was trying desperately to get over it, and here he was digging it back up again. There was a good reason I didn't talk about it or even let myself think about it.

I felt the tantrum coming, but I couldn't stop it. In the past, I'd been forced to meet with counselors about what I'd been through, and I'd always had the same reaction. I would fly into a rage, scream, rant and then shut down before I imploded. It was the only defense I had against facing it, and I didn't_ want_to face it. It hurt too much. For me, facing up to it meant reliving it, and I wasn't prepared to do that. I just wanted to forget about it and move on with my life. It was easier that way.

"Fuck you," I cried and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. "You don't know! You don't know anything!"

* * *

Seifer felt bad about having to bring up the kid's past, but she had to be broken down before they could build her back up. It was the only way to help her get over it and be able to live again. To make her face it head on, deal with it and accept that she was a survivor, not a victim.

The girl was damaged goods, that much was obvious. Just like all the other kids here. All she had was her sharp tongue and her physical strength. On the inside, Seifer knew she was deeply, tragically wounded. Miri's story was not the worst he'd heard since he'd taken the post of Commander at a Garden created for damaged kids, but it was certainly one of the saddest. Her history was full of physical and sexual abuse, and nothing about her childhood had been stable or easy. It was a wonder she hadn't cracked under the weight of her past. At the moment, though, she was a ticking time bomb and without a little help, she would eventually crack and Seifer could tell, if that happened, she might not recover.

A crappy life had taken away her ability to care or see her own worth. She had a lot of negative energy building up inside, and Seifer knew from personal experience what happened to kids like that.

While the damage couldn't be undone, it could be repaired. He'd seen it before. All she needed was a reason to care. A sense of worth and purpose. Fortunately, this program had worked for many of the others, and while they still bore the scars of their past, they'd come full circle and the really were some of the best fighters in the world, as well as some of the brightest he'd ever met. Even those that hadn't become SeeDs had worked through their own pain and frustrations and now served as support staff within the Garden.

But not all of the kids he'd inherited were success stories. Most of the failures were either unwilling to make the effort to help themselves or had psychological problems stemming from bad childhoods. The most recent failure had been diagnosed with Multiple Personality Disorder. It was sad, but it couldn't be helped.

This one _could _be saved, and she was worth saving, but he was going to have to get tough to crack her, as much as it killed him to do it. She had a lot going for her, even if she didn't realize it.

She'd surprised the hell out of him in the Training Center. He'd expected to sneak up on Squall and go a few rounds, but it was the girl who'd drawn a blade against him, and launched an offensive strike before he'd even realized that it was her and not Squall. And then she'd pulled some crazy moves he'd never seen before, like that kick-slash combo, which told him that she was inventive and not afraid of the unconventional. She was, hands down the best fighter he'd seen in a long while, and with some training, she'd be unstoppable.

The look on her face now was a cross between intense rage and deep, soul crushing grief, and she was trying desperately not to cry. After a moment, Seifer got up from the desk and put his hands on her shoulders.

"Don't touch me!" she cried and wrenched herself away from him.

She began to pace, driven by anxiety and a need to stay guarded. Seifer had seen it a hundred times since his tenure as commander. Every one of these kids came to him with the same kind of rage and anger flowing through their veins.

"It's okay," he said softly. "What happened to you should _never_ happen to anyone, and I understand that it hurts way down inside and it doesn't go away. It's there with you all the time, and it never goes away. But it doesn't have to be like that. I won't lie and say that one day it will all go away, but you can make it hurt less. But you have to want to try."

Miri was shaking, trying in vain to control herself. He saw her eyes go to the door, the window with the false backdrop, to make it look like there was actually something outside. She was thinking on her feet, calculating an escape.

Seifer had never been a man who was moved by the emotions of others, which was what made him perfect for this job. Not everyone would be able to handle the horror stories that made up the majority of these kid's lives without getting their hearts broken on a daily basis. While he empathized, and he did become emotionally attached to the kids in his care, he did his best not to let the tragedy of their lives get to him. To do that would tear him apart.

However, he was surprised to find that this one affected him more than any of the others had. In spite of her attitude and the animosity he saw in her eyes, he'd felt an immediate bond with the kid. It didn't happen often that one of them got to him, but Miri Heart did. Maybe it was that half crazed, feral terror in her face that reminded him of his own wounds. Maybe he saw something of himself in her.

So he told her the truth.

"You want someone to give a damn," he continued as he perched himself on the edge of the desk. "Well, you should know that _I_ do. I_ want_ you to succeed. I _want_ you to be proud of yourself. But _you _have to want it, too. Nothing will change for you until you decide that you want better for yourself and that you deserve better."

She wiped angrily at her eyes and slumped back into the chair, her eyes on the portrait of Siren.

When she'd calmed down a little, Seifer continued. "Are you willing to at least_ try_, Miri?"

She heaved a sigh and looked everywhere but at him.

"I'll try. No promises, but I'll try."

There was no emotion or energy in her voice, but he knew that he'd planted the seeds of change in her. He sensed that she did want better for herself, she just didn't know how to go about making that change.

"Okay," he said and passed her schedule.

He explained it in detail. Breakfast at six, classes from 7 am till noon. Group therapy or counseling from one till one forty five, followed by training until three. Then she'd work in the kitchen from five pm till seven, then have two hours to study and then it was lights out at nine thirty. On weekends, she would train from eight am till noon, attend her group therapy from one till three and then work from four till six. Weekend study time was from six until seven thirty, and following that, she was allowed free time until ten, but she was currently restricted to the library, her dorm and the training center. Any deviation would result in detention time in the brig.

"Everyone here is part of a team," Seifer explained. "Like you, most of the kids here don't work well with others, so we force them to. You've been assigned to India team. You will share living quarters, classes, meals, work, study, training and group time with them but your free time is your own. You will be supervised by your team captain Mick Lindsay. You will think of him as your mentor, and you will obey his rules. He's a cool, laid back guy and you can go to him if you have any concerns or questions. But make no mistake, you screw around and he _will _tell me. Is this clear?"

"Yes," Miri said, sounding defeated.

"One other thing," Seifer said. "You will address all staff and all SeeDs as Sir or Ma'am. That includes Mick. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," she said, putting bitter emphasis on the word _Sir_.

"Good," he said. "I'll have Mick show you to your room."

* * *

_A/N: While I had months of downtime and no reliable internet connection, I started working on other projects and ideas to stay busy. This was one of the more viable projects and one that I rather like. It could be considered a 2__nd__ gen fic in some ways, but some of the original cast, like Seifer, have a big part in the story. I always liked the idea of Seifer as a role model and a leader and started exploring that avenue. _

_I will say someone put the idea for this in my head about a year ago and I've been intrigued by it ever since. We were talking about this ultra intensive behavior modification-slash-rehab center for troubled teens and how the methods they used were, on one hand, controversial, and on the other, rather ingenious. The program, unlike traditional rehab, was difficult, if not impossible to escape from and it forced kids to face their problems and own up to their mistakes. It was part military, part prep school, part therapy, part child labor and no bullshit or propaganda like a lot of modification programs. To get out, they had to earn it. Obviously, I applied that concept to Garden and viola. Story. _

_I know that 2__nd__gen stories aren't terribly popular, but I assure you Seifer will make regular appearances as will another original cast member who has yet to be named. Others might make cameos later. It's sort of experimental at this point, to see if it gains any followers. If people are reading, I'll post more._

So. Please leave a review.

Like it or hate it, I'd love to hear what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

The cardboard sign Almasy made me wear was huge and ridiculous. It said:

"If I can't say something nice, I shouldn't say anything at all."

I felt like I was in kindergarten. It was something you hear people tell little kids when they're mean to one another. Sure I was surly and sarcastic, but I didn't think this form of humiliation was really necessary. There wasn't much I could do about it if I wanted to avoid solitary, which sounded like a whole lot of not fun. I might have denied that it would have any effect on me, but secretly, I wasn't so sure after what Almasy had described. The last thing I wanted to do was sit in the dark and think about all the people that had failed me, or worse. As it was, he'd brought up all the stuff I was trying to avoid in the first place, and I was on the ragged edge of crazy. I felt raw and defeated. And angry, too. Angry that I was here. Angry that so many people knew about me. Angry that I had absolutely no control over my fate.

"This way," Mick Lindsay said, motioning for me to follow him down a long hallway that I assumed was the dormitory.

Dutifully, I followed in silence, while he pointed out things I was supposed to be interested in but could have cared less about. All I really wanted to do was either sleep or go find something to slice up into tiny little bits with my gunblade.

I noticed a half-finished mural across from the check in desk as we entered the wing of the dorm that was to be my new home. The mural looked like it was going to be a classical depiction of the Sorceress and Knight, but it was hard to tell, since only portions of it were finished. I noted the similarities between the mural and the paintings in Almasy's office. There was something about the details in the faces and the hands that reminded me of the portrait of Siren. In some places, the artist had begun filling in the background and color, but it was still mostly just a vague sketch. Mick allowed me to pause to admire it.

A closer inspection told me that perhaps this was a slightly different interpretation than the traditional brave Knight protecting the persecuted Sorceress. For one thing, the Sorceress was just as engaged in battle as the knight, her hand raised to cast her magic against what looked to be a huge, hulking blue dragon. Also, the Knight didn't appear to be wearing armor, and there was no white horse or fairy tale landscape. It would be very interesting to see the finished work. I had to give it to the guy. He had talent.

"Did you see the paintings in the Commander's office?" Mick asked, also admiring the work as he stood beside me.

I nodded.

"Commander Almasy's a big fan of Stone's work," Mick said. His eyes were studying the Sorceress. "Almasy lets him paint wherever he wants these days. Makes it feel less institutionalized."

So that was what the S stood for. Actually, I was starting to become a fan myself, and I found it interesting that Almasy let this guy paint wherever he wanted to. What was up with this place, anyway? A glossy, sugar coated version of hell or an actual chance for me to sort myself out? I wasn't sure, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad, considering Almasy was game to give creative license to the artist in residence Not to mention, his little speech back in his office had been pretty convincing, even if I didn't quite buy it. After all, I was wearing a cardboard sign around my neck, so it could go either way.

"Stone's one of ours," Mick said.

Since I couldn't ask, I shot him a questioning glance and a raised eyebrow. The not talking thing was already wearing thin.

"Stone's in India Company, with us," Mick explained.

I didn't expect to meet the artist, let alone have to live with him. I'd expected to be sharing a dorm with girls, like in Balamb. They'd had very firm rules about having the opposite sex in your dorm room. Strange that this place didn't.

"Come on," Mick urged.

I followed him down the hall. We stopped in front of a door that was painted red with a swirling gold design around the edges. The word "India," was spelled out in bits of gold glass, in a style of lettering that called to mind ancient Centra script. Below that was an intricate, mosaic-like portrait of Griever made of broken bits of gray, black, gold and red glass and tiny colored seed beads. Instinctively, I knew this Stone guy had done it.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw the door across the hall was covered in origami swans made of various colors, but there was no identifying name on the door. The door next to that one had been covered in tie-dye fabric in shades of blue, purple and black. On it, someone had spray painted the word _Echo_ in lime green. I stepped back and looked up and down the hall and saw that every door in the corridor had been decorated in one way or another.

Apparently, Almasy had let everyone go crazy with the creativity, though it appeared not everyone was as talented as Mr. Stone Acosta. Considering the reform school nature of this place, It seemed a little off topic.

"These are our rooms," Mick said as he opened the door to reveal a living room with couple of big comfortable looking couches and a coffee table. On one wall was a desk with shelving above it, filled with reference materials. On the other was an entertainment center with a big flat screen TV and a gaming console. Off of the living room was a small kitchen with a dining table that looked like it was used more as a place to study than a place to eat. Rather luxurious digs, considering it was a prison.

"The rules are pretty simple," Mick said. "Clean up after yourself, respect your team mates and always look out for one another. We don't have to like one another, but we are a team, so at all times, we're to act like one."

I nodded. I didn't know about the helping each other thing. As I said, I didn't play well with others. Team or no, I planned to keep to myself, as usual.

"You'll be sharing a room with Julia and Nena," Mick said. He opened a door that revealed a short hallway with three doors. "Stone, Janus and Lee are across the hall from you. My room's at the end. Each room has its own bathroom, so you don't have to worry about sharing with the boys."

These doors were decorated in a similar manner as the one outside, except that one had been painted a deep shade of blue. The gold glass and bead embellishments were finer but more elaborate, and the word "Dolls" was spelled out in the same ornate script. The door across from it was done in the same, except that it was a deep green and said, "Guys."

Cute. Cheesy, but cute.

Inside, there were three modified bunk bed style pieces of furniture. The bottom of each had a desk with a laptop on it and a small dresser to the side, the bed was above and went all the way up to the ceiling. Each one had a tie back style curtain made of dark blue, shimmery fabric for privacy. The one on the right was mine. In the middle of the floor was an oriental rug in shades of blue and cream. The bathroom door was like the others, except that it said, "Powder room."

I had to admit, it was a pretty cool room. Very unlike my sterile white dorm back in Balamb, where we were limited to posters stuck to the wall with scotch tape for decoration. I just hoped my roommates weren't a bunch of snotty princesses like my last one. It was hard enough for me to get along with people. Having to share living space with a couple of drama queens would be intolerable.

"You're probably hungry, so we'll swing by the cafeteria for a bite," Mick said.

I wasn't hungry, but I hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast so I nodded and followed him, resenting this cumbersome sign and the annoying message scrawled on it.

Along the way, I noted that both the front entrance and the garage were heavily gated and required thumb prints to access. Each door had an armed guard posted on it, and they looked formidable.

So much for sneaking out in the middle of the night. Unless, of course, I cut off somebody's thumb. I wondered what the likelihood was that I'd have the guts and the opportunity to take Almasy's.

By the time we returned to the room, the rest of my roomies had come back from wherever they'd been when I'd arrived. All I could do was stare at them silently, as they sized me up, with varying degrees of hostility.

One of them, I recognized, and I was surprised to see her here. The girl was none other than Julia Leonhart, the commander's daughter. It blew my mind to think that Leonhart had sent his own kid here. To me, that was pretty messed up. I mean, I knew that she'd left Garden about six months before, under strange circumstances. There were rumors that Julia had gotten pregnant and had an affair with an instructor, but even if that was the case, I couldn't imagine that it was reason enough to send her off into oblivion. Back when it all went down, I was inclined to believe the rumors, but now I wasn't so sure. Whatever she'd done to end up here, I somehow doubted that it was something as simple as getting knocked up by an instructor.

"I remember you," Julia said frostily. "Miri Heart, right?"

I nodded.

"Well, Miri welcome to hell," Julia said and stormed off down the hall.

I wondered what her problem was. She'd always been kind of snotty, and she had a vindictive streak in her that was a mile wide, but she and I had never had any beef that I could recall. Perhaps she was just as angry about being here as I was. Maybe she was angry about having to give up her easy, charmed life for this place. I decided maybe I shouldn't take it personal. After all, I didn't exactly make it easy for people to get along with me, either.

One of the young men eyed the sign around my neck and grinned at me. He was cute, in an impish, trouble maker kind of way. I could tell right off that he was a bad boy, but the kind of bad boy who made anything fun, no matter what it was. It could be bank robbery or knitting, but as long as he was around, it would be a blast.

"Don't mind her. She hates everyone," he said, extending his hand. "I'm Lee Bartram. This is Janus, and that's Stone over there."

I glanced into the kitchen, in the direction Lee was pointing and saw a good looking young man at the kitchen table, looking back at me with a calm, unreadable expression on his face. His gas flame blue eyes were equally unreadable. So this was the artist. I don't know what I was expecting, but he wasn't it.

I regarded him for a moment, taking note of the ugly scar that ran from his left temple up to the hairline above his forehead. There was a second one that extended from his ear to the tip of his chin. A third stretched vertically from the corner of his left eyebrow to his cheekbone. They'd been deep, ugly wounds, and I could tell they'd been untreated because of their severity. I had my share of scars, but because someone had been kind enough to give me a potion, they were just faint, whitish lines now. Despite myself, I wondered what had happened to him.

"I'm Nena Capria," the other girl said. She flicked her blonde hair from her eyes and smiled. "Kind of sucks that you can't talk for a week. How are we supposed to get to know you?"

I just shrugged, indifferent. Personally, I don't like to get involved. Too much work, and the more someone knows about you, the more dangerous they are. I could have cared less about getting to know her, for that matter. Just because we were supposed to live together didn't mean we'd be the best of friends.

The open, welcoming look on Nena's face shut down and she eyed me with what looked like disdain. Then she turned on her heel followed Julia. I'd pissed her off or hurt her feelings, but who cared?

"You should unpack your things. You won't have any time the rest of the week," Janus offered. "Besides, I'd bet Julia's poking her nose where it doesn't belong, if you get my drift."

I hadn't thought about that. I gave him a look I hoped conveyed my thanks and headed off to my new room, thinking that this was going to be tough. Not being able to speak, and having to get used to six roommates would not be easy for me. I had a feeling they'd all be in my face, all the time, given that we did everything but shower together, and I was starting to wonder about that.

* * *

Seifer and Squall sat in a private dining room eating a late lunch while they discussed Garden business. Time had mellowed their relationship enough that the two could be civil, even friends. Long ago, Seifer had given up his animosity toward Squall, and had found that Squall never really had any toward him, he had just been a kid who wanted to be left alone. These days, their relationship was built on mutual respect, not misunderstanding or anger or a need to be liked. Seifer's degree in psychology had taught him long ago that his aggression toward Squall had more to do with his own self esteem issues than anything else. But those days were long gone. Now they were equals, both commanders of their respective Gardens and time had healed whatever wounds they'd caused one another.

When they finished their meal, Seifer poured two glasses of Mimmet, and the conversation turned away from work.

"How's my daughter doing?" Squall asked. "Any improvement?"

Seifer knew the subject was going to come up, but that didn't make it any less difficult.

"Not really," Seifer admitted. "She's still acting like it's all a big joke."

Squall sighed and shook his head. Julia had been here for 6 months, and she'd so far resisted every attempt they'd made to break through to her. If anything, her behavior had worsened.

"Her therapist says Julia's just telling her what she wants to hear," Seifer continued. "And that she blames everyone but herself for the things she did to land herself here. She won't take any responsibility at all."

"I thought sending her here would help," Squall said.

"It will eventually," Seifer said. "Eventually, she'll get tired of being angry. She'll get tired of her classmates figuring it out and moving on while she's left behind."

"I'm not blaming you," Squall said. "I know this program works. I just don't understand where we went wrong with her."

Seifer shrugged. "You know, if a place like this had existed when we were kids, I bet we all would have ended up here. Except for Quistis, maybe. Don't you remember what it was like to be fifteen and angry about everything?"

"She has no reason to be angry," Squall said. "She didn't grow up the way we did. She had two parents that loved her and the kind of home we never had growing up. She got everything she ever wanted. We gave her a pony for her twelfth birthday, for Hyne's sake."

"Maybe she's not angry at you, she's just taking it out on you," Seifer said, "but until she decides to start talking about what's really pissing her off, she won't progress."

Squall started to laugh, half amused, half defeated. He put his hands up in surrender, shaking his head.

"And that's why you run this place, not me," Squall said.

"Speaking of running this place," Seifer said, "Know a therapist for troubled kids looking for work? Preferably a woman? My staff's overbooked and I'm having to take on a few extras myself to help out with the work load. It's getting kinda deep in here."

It was true that Seifer had taken on a few more cases of late, more than someone in his position should have, but it couldn't be helped. The more kids that wound up here, the more help he would need. As it was, his staff each had several more cases than they could reasonably handle.

"I know someone," Squall said.

"Well, send them my way. I could use the help."

"I could make a call right now, if you want."

"Hyne, yes."

Squall excused himself, and Seifer helped himself to more of the whiskey while he waited. When Squall returned, he sat down with a satisfied expression on his face.

"So?" Seifer asked.

"She can meet you in Esthar at the Grand Hotel near the Palace on Tuesday. Two o'clock."

"She's affiliated with SeeD, I presume?"

"I think you'll like her," Squall said, ignoring Seifer's question. "Nice woman, very trustworthy, more than qualified for the job."

Seifer wondered why Squall was being so vague about it. It wasn't like him.

"What's wrong with her?"

"Why would something be wrong with her?" Squall asked.

"You're being weird about it," Seifer said. "If there wasn't something wrong with her, you wouldn't be so evasive."

"Trust me, Seifer. I wouldn't send you someone I didn't believe in."

Squall gave him a level stare, which told Seifer that was the last he was going to say about it. Seifer was desperate enough for help that he decided not to question it. It was just an interview, after all. Besides. Squall had a point. He would never bother with someone he had doubts about. Not even out of desperation. That had to count for something.

* * *

"Hope she's better than the last one we had," Janus Kohn said.

Stone glanced at him, but didn't say a word, as was his habit. Around here, the less said, the better.

Janus annoyed him. He was a cocky hothead, but he did everything Julia told him to, which in Stone's eyes was a really bad idea. Julia was a controlling bitch, and Stone thought she was starting to come apart at the seams. Her temper was getting shorter and shorter, her pranks and insults meaner, and lately, she'd decided that it was fun to mess with him. Her taunts ranged from unabashed flirting to outright emasculation, especially when he pretended she wasn't there. Maybe now, with this new girl here, Julia would have something else to focus her rage on.

Sometimes, he wondered how Julia Leonhart, the daughter of the world's greatest hero, had ended up in a place like this. He figured one of two things had happened. Either Squall Leonhart was extremely strict, or Julia had screwed up big time and in order to save himself the embarrassment, he'd sent her here. Stone figured it was more likely the latter. Julia had a smart mouth, a bad attitude and she could be petty and vindictive to the extreme. She sought revenge for the smallest, and sometimes imagined insults. And it was getting worse. She'd gone from being vaguely angry to extreme fits of rage and even occasional violence against others.

In a way, Stone felt bad for the new girl. She wasn't going to have an easy time with Julia, and by extension Nena or Janus because they did whatever Julia wanted them to. Lee was a little better about it, being the one that would tell Julia to knock it off when she went too far, but half the time, he only encouraged Julia's hateful side.

Either way, it was pretty likely that she'd be the brunt of Julia's cruel pranks and hateful comments. And if the girl couldn't or wouldn't stand up for herself, she was going to be just as miserable as the last one. Even if she managed to win the trio over to her side, she was in for a world of torment.

"The last one had multiple personalities," Lee said.

"They should have kept her around," Janus laughed. "She might have been pretty good at undercover work. She could be a different person every day without having to act."

"That's messed up," Lee said. "It's not like she could help it."

"She creeped me out," Janus said. "And she was weird. Good riddance I say."

"New girl's kinda hot, though," Lee said. "Let's hope she's not as crazy as the rest of the chicks in here."

Janus started to laugh.

"Dude. All the chicks here are crazy," he said. "That's why they're here."

Stone shook his head and went back to doodling. He should have been studying, but he'd never been a great student and not very motivated to excel in the classroom, though he knew if he applied himself to education with one tenth of the gusto he applied to his art, he could have been at the top of his class. But, he only truly cared about painting. Everything else was just a distraction.

As he sketched, his mind turned to the girl, Miri. He couldn't seem to get those green eyes of hers out of his head. She had the same cocky, hard expression that just about every other girl here had, but there was something different about her. In all the others it was pretty obvious that all the bravado was false. In their eyes, bravado masked fear. Stone could always see through it, but In Miri's eyes, he'd seen a resigned toughness, a hardened edge that made him believe that maybe she was the goods. Not a trace of fear in those green eyes.

Not an ounce of hope, either.

* * *

In my room, I sat down at the desk and began to unpack my things. I saw that everything but my clothes and the most basic of toiletries had been taken. My nail polish, my make-up, all my CDs and books were gone save a biography of Seifer Almasy that I'd never bothered to read, and a manual on the battle strategy of the Sorceress wars. Angry, I turned accusing eyes toward the girls, who sat on Julia's bunk looking through magazines and laughing together as they whispered back and forth about me.

On a piece of paper I found in the desk, I scrawled, _Who took my stuff?_ and held it up so that they could see it.

"They take everything when you first get here," Nena explained. "You have to earn it back."

"Knowing her, she'll never get it back," Julia muttered.

Well, that was just great. While it wasn't that important, I was annoyed that they resorted to such silly tactics. Taking away my music and books, which was the only entertainment I had, plus hanging a stupid sign around my neck, _plus_ being forbidden to speak for a whole week was enough to make me crack. I had no idea what any of this was supposed to teach me, and the whole thing was really starting to piss me off. And of all people to have to share a room with, I got Princess Leonhart, who was obviously extremely bitter over life in general. While she'd always been kind of a brat before, now she was full on hateful. I know knew my greatest challenge would be trying to get through this without killing her.

I tried to ignore them as they whispered about me, but Julia was doing it loud enough that I could hear, and on purpose, no doubt. I was dying to say something smart back, but if I knew Julia, she'd go running to Mick and I'd end up in solitary. Which, to tell the truth, wasn't sounding so bad after all.

"-no friends-so pathetic," I heard Julia whisper. I glared at her over my shoulder and Julia gave me a cold smile in return. I responded by giving her the finger.

Julia's eyes widened and she hopped down off her bunk.

"I'm telling Mick."

I just shrugged as if to say, go ahead. I didn't much care. After listening to Julia's catty whispers for twenty minutes, I was about to go off anyway, and I figured, why prolong the inevitable?

"If I tell Mick, they'll send you to solitary."

I shrugged again. I grabbed the piece of paper from the desk and wrote _I don't give a crap._

"Well, you should," Julia said when she'd read it. "It's like a dungeon. With rats. And they make you sit there in the dark."

"_Hanging out in a dungeon full of rats seems a lot more entertaining than sitting here listening to you talk shit about me_," I wrote back.

"Just filling Nena in on the sitch," Julia said. "She has a right to know who she's rooming with."

I smiled back and wrote, "_Maybe I should fill her in on you. Heard you left Garden because you got knocked up by Instructor Takawana_."

Julia's face flamed and her eyes blazed as she read what I had written.

"What?" she demanded.

"_Everyone in Balamb knows about your little affair._"

Now Julia paled and she shook her head.

"Who told you that?"

"_Everybody._" I scrawled with a smile, feeling the balance of power shift.

"Well, it's not true," Julia snarled.

I just smiled and leaned back in my chair, challenging Julia keep running her mouth. To my surprise, Julia backed down and returned to her bunk, though not without sending the occasional hateful glance my way.

I returned to unpacking my meager belongings, seething over our conversation and the loss of my personal stuff. I ignored the whispering, but I still felt defeated. By the situation, by Almasy, by Julia, by my whole, entire, sad life. And there was nothing I could do about it.

* * *

The classes were more interesting than those at Balamb, at least. For one thing, they were more hands on. In the computer class, I learned how to reconstruct a hard drive damaged by a virus. In my espionage class, I listened closely while the instructor explained the different ways to collect information without being detected. In current affairs, there was a heated debate between Janus and Lee about socialism versus capitalism. The instructor didn't even interrupt, except to occasionally say, "Good point." That would never have happened in Balamb. We'd been expected to sit quietly through lecture, and only speak when called on.

Counter terrorism was fascinating, too. I found myself inspecting diagrams of various kinds of bombs that terrorists used, and committing them to memory. For just a second, I entertained the thought of building my own so I could blow a hole in the wall and leave. Except that I was under supervision all the time, and finding materials and a chance to work on it would be slim to none.

My last class of the day was a strange one. It was supposed to be Undercover Ops 1, but I couldn't decide if it was an etiquette class, a diction class, a drama class or a history of fashion. In truth, it was all over the map. I was made to put on a formal gown, which I hated, and heels, which I hated even more, and was made to walk back and forth across the classroom while the instructor expounded upon the importance of carefully choosing the right outfit.

"Own the heels, Miri," Instructor Latrobe cried over and over, which caused Julia to giggle and whisper something that made Nena giggle.

I mean, I got that espionage might require someone to dress or act differently than they normally would, but making me walk around like a pageant queen in front of everyone seemed silly and unnecessary. I felt like a little kid playing dress up. In the end, I hadn't learned much, except how not to fall on my face in front of a class full of people.

During these classes, I noticed that Nena, Julia, Janus and Lee were joined at the hip. Stone didn't say much and didn't seem to care that they ignored him. I wondered if it was because he wanted it that way or if Julia, who seemed to be their leader, had decided to leave him out. He was a good looking kid, except for the nasty scars on his face. I'd already overheard Julia call him Scarface and Igor. I felt sorry for him when I thought about what could have happened to have caused such scarring. These days, potions pretty much erased wounds to nothing but tiny white marks.

At lunch, we sat together. No one talked to me, but I didn't care. Wasn't like I could say anything back anyway. I pushed the food around my plate with disinterest and ate little. Everything sucked. I wished Squall had just dumped me on the train and said, "Have a nice life." I could be in Deling City right now, starting my real life, instead of locked up like a criminal in this hellhole.

"Oh, look," a passing cadet said, "It's Igor."

I looked up at Stone, who turned around and glared at the cadets. I knew they were talking about him, and I was curious about how he'd react.

"Like I haven't heard that one before," he growled.

It was the first time since I'd gotten here that I had heard him speak. He sounded downright menacing and I had the feeling he was just as tough as he sounded. Definitely not someone I wanted to piss off if I could help it.

"Dude, the monster talks," his companion said.

"Wanna see the monster bust your face?" Stone asked and cracked his knuckles. He looked furious.

"Bring it, freak."

Stone got up and made a move to attack the cadets, but Mick intervened. He grabbed Stone by the shoulders and shoved him back into his chair. Then he looked at the two cadets.

"See the sign she's wearing?" he asked, pointing to me, and my face immediately turned crimson. "You've just earned yourselves a week of that. Speak to anyone and you earn yourselves a stay in solitary."

As embarrassed as I was about being singled out, it amused me to see Mick hang signs around their necks that said, "If I can't say something nice, I should keep my mouth shut."

I smirked and raised an eyebrow at Stone, who looked like he was ready to kill someone. I realized right then, those scars had been a constant source of torment for him, and I felt a little bad. No longer amused, I gave him what she hoped was a look of understanding and sympathy, and then I wondered why I even cared. It wasn't like I knew him. He wasn't my friend. I didn't have any friends.

"You and I need to chat," Mick said to Stone, who obediently got up, fists still clenched at his sides and followed Mick out of the cafeteria.

After lunch was group therapy, a sort of hands on support group. They had to be kidding. It was the hokiest thing I'd ever heard. I totally did not buy into the touchy feely sharing of emotions thing at all. I didn't care about what they were feeling, and even if I could talk, I wouldn't have shared mine. It was none of their business.  
I sat at the back of the room and listened, bored while my team mates spoke about how much the program was changing them, and how the anger was going away because they felt like they were accomplishing something. I rolled my eyes and leaned back in my chair, wishing I could skip this crap and go to the training center.  
Mick returned Stone to the class just as we were all about to pair off for an activity, something about sharing our feelings about others. Inwardly I groaned because I knew that I'd be paired up with him.

Stone had a sign of his own that read, "I am far too sensitive. I must learn to ignore petty insults."

My lips quirked into a smile as he took a seat at the table next to me. At least I wasn't the only one with a cardboard necklace.

"Welcome to group, Stone," Counselor Davies said. "You can pair up with Miri for today."

That caused giggles from the girls and I scowled. Somehow, I knew Julia was going to dwell on this.

"We're going to share our impressions of each other. Be honest. If you think someone's holding back, tell them," the counselor said. "And tell them why you think that. Miri and Stone, you may write your communications."

Reluctantly, I moved my chair so that I was sitting across from Stone. His face was hard, revealing nothing at all, his blue eyes unreachable. Hoping to lighten the mood, I imitated him and then grinned. I saw the corner of his mouth twitch, but otherwise, his face remained impassive. He wasn't giving anything away, and it was almost as if he was looking right through me, as if I was nothing.

I let my eyes wander his face and I took in his strong jaw, the full lips, his long, black hair, the perfect nose, the dark lashes that fringed his gas flame eyes, and finally the wicked scars on his face. Again, I felt sympathy for him. It was an old scar. Something from his childhood, no doubt. Maybe something that helped land him here.

Sometimes, I wished my scars showed. People were always telling me I was too pretty to act the way I did. Maybe, if I was disfigured, they'd leave me alone. I could understand why some people cut themselves. Maybe they wanted the whole world to know. After all, physical wounds made a hell of a lot more sense than emotional ones.

But mine, almost all mine, were on the inside where no one could see them, and unlike those on skin, they never quite healed.

* * *

Stone kept his face a mask as Miri inspected him, but he was observing her as closely as she was him. She was pretty, with delicate features, a rose petal mouth and impish, ornery green eyes. Her dark hair gleamed with auburn highlights under the florescent lights and cascaded down past her shoulder blades. A sprinkling of freckles across her pert little nose. A tiny, whitish scar on her chin, another just below her eye, and a third, three inches long and thin as a thread across her neck. They were faint and probably old, but they were there. They must have been bad wounds to still be visible and it made him wonder what had happened.  
Then he wondered why he cared. Everyone here was scarred in one way or another, inside and out.

When he realized she was looking unabashedly at the scars, he couldn't keep the color from coming to his cheeks. His scars were a constant source of embarrassment to him. They made him ugly, disfigured. Without meaning to, he covered it with his hand and looked away.

He was surprised when Miri reached out and removed his hand. When he met her eyes, she shook her head.

Then she glanced over at Janus and Julia who were holding hands across the table, speaking earnestly to one another and rolled her eyes. Then she stuck her finger down her throat. Stone raised an eyebrow in agreement, understanding exactly what she meant. Those two were so full of it, especially in Group. They lied through their teeth about making progress, when they were exactly the same assholes they'd always been.

Group itself was crap. Stone wasn't interested in finding out who he was, or why he felt the way he did about things. He already knew why he felt the way he did. He already knew who he was. He didn't need to do any soul searching or confessing to know himself inside and out. And talking about the past did no good, no matter what they preached. It was over and done with. History. Talking about it wouldn't change a thing.

"Excellent," Davies said. "Keep sharing. Miri and Stone, I don't see you communicating."

Miri grabbed a pencil and started to write. She slid it across the table at him.

"Any way out of this hell hole?" she'd written.

_Few have tried. None have succeeded. _

Miri's lips pursed and she began to write again.

"Is there another way out, besides the elevator?"

_Don't know. Maybe. _

"Maybe?"

_Maybe, as in, there might be. And, no, I don't know where it is. _

"If you did, you probably wouldn't tell me, would you?"

Stone shrugged. He didn't know if he'd tell her or not. And if he did know a way out, he wouldn't be sitting here participating in this exercise in stupidity. There were stories from time to time about kids who tried to escape. Most of them didn't even make it far enough to see daylight before they were caught and taken to solitary for a while. A handful of others had made it outside and had been shot on sight as promised, then brought back for a stay in the infirmary before being deposited in solitary.

There was a rumor, though, about a boy who'd escaped in the early days of Black, when security wasn't as diligent as it was now. He'd managed to get free, but died in the desert of dehydration. The fool had neglected to consider that he was in the desert, a hundred miles from anything, and there was no source of water or food to be found outside the walls of Garden.

Stone had fantasized about escaping when he'd first arrived, but then he realized he didn't have much to escape to. At least here, he was relatively safe. He had a roof over his head, a bed to sleep in, three meals a day and he was allowed to fight and paint to his heart's content. As odd as it seemed, this was the most stable and comfortable home he'd ever known.

He wondered about Miri, though. It was typical that a newbie would want to split. That wasn't so unusual. What was unusual was that there was something about her that made him believe if she saw the opportunity, she'd take it, and she'd be prepared and resourceful enough to make it out alive.

He wondered about her life before this. How bad had it been that she'd ended up here? Was she just a brat like Julia? Or was her background closer to his own?

He eyed her sign and raised an eyebrow as he wrote: _You've only been here a day. What did you do to earn the vow of silence?_

"Smarted off to Almasy," she scribbled. "He just doesn't appreciate sarcasm."

Well, that would do it. Not many had the guts to talk back to Almasy. Most people were scared of him, usually because of who he was at first, and then because he could be your best friend one minute and your worst nightmare the next. Nevertheless, Stone found himself smiling a little, trying to picture it. She must have really gotten under Almasy's skin.

_Impressive. You're lucky he didn't stick you in solitary. _

This was the most Stone had communicated with anyone in the group in six months. They pretty much ignored him most of the time, which was fine with him. He didn't want to be part of their stupid little alliance anyway. They were just a bunch of immature kids, especially Julia and Janus, who were both spoiled brats from good families. They didn't have any reason to act the way they did. Their lives had been charmed and easy, and Stone resented the fact that they were even here.

_You should watch your back around Julia_, Stone wrote, figuring that he'd better warn her. _When she decides to ruin someone's day, she really ruins it._

"I can handle it," Mila wrote. "I know her. I know how she is."

Stone nodded and leaned back in his chair, thinking that Miri was the first person he'd met here who had might actually be okay. The fact that she'd not looked away from his scars or ridiculed them was something that he didn't encounter often. Most girls wouldn't look at all or made cruel jokes about them. Miri's gaze had been direct and unapologetic. As if she found them interesting, but not that big a deal. Stone liked that. He liked it a lot.

* * *

That afternoon, Seifer watched the India team train from the observation deck above the training center. Squall had been right. Miri Heart was definitely a top notch fighter.

Seifer had a taste of it himself and he'd been impressed. Now, watching from afar, he knew he was watching something very, very special. Somehow, Cadet Heart developed her own single handed style of fighting that was both graceful and brutal and unlike anything he'd ever seen before. She used techniques that Seifer had never seen in any blader, anywhere. This was some bizarre marriage of acrobatics, ballet, martial arts and sword fighting. Nothing at all like the straight up stab and parry type of blading that Garden taught.

Heart flawlessly executed an aerial spin, her blade swirling around and then down in an arc of flashing steel; a spin slash combined with a kick that knocked Julia Leonhart right on her ass. Seifer watched, stunned as Heart pirouetted around Janus Kohn, striking him hard each time she swung the blade. It was the craziest, most ingenious thing Seifer had ever seen, and he'd seen a lot in his day. If anything, he thought, this kid should be teaching them, not the other way around.

Seifer knew that they could not afford to let this one stagnate in her own grief and self pity. She was too incredible, too inventive and too smart to coddle. This one had to be broken down and rebuilt stronger and better. And it had to be done soon. Otherwise, she'd shut down like she had everywhere else and would fester in her anger, and maybe then, it would be too late.

Down below, she faced off against her classmates, one by one, proving over and over again how exceptional she was. They fell, one by one until she faced Stone Acosta, and Seifer watched with interest as the two battled one another. Though Cadet Acosta hadn't been fond of fighting in the beginning, he'd proved himself to be one of the best they had. Seifer thought that if the boy ever fought like it mattered, he'd be unstoppable. Actually, that was true for both of them. He could only imagine what the two of them might be capable of if they had something to fight for.

Acosta gave Heart a good run for her money and the challenge she deserved. He wasn't nearly as fast, but he hit harder and anticipated her attacks well enough to avoid being brought down. Heart parried a hard down stroke, but was unable to avoid Acosta's follow up cross. The boy's blade hit her across the shoulder and she was sent reeling. It didn't end her, though. She used the momentum of the blow in her favor, spinning like a windmill, slashing him across the chest. Still spinning, she twisted down into a crouch and swung out her leg and knocked him right off his feet. Acosta fell, but was back on guard in an instant and went after her, striking hard. His attack was parried, but just barely. For several minutes, neither landed a blow on the other, but the intensity of the battle never waned.

Seifer couldn't help but grin. This pair was phenomenal together. Two wildly divergent styles but evenly matched. It had been a while since he'd seen anyone give Acosta the kind of challenge he needed, and for Seifer, this was of the utmost importance. The boy was extremely skilled, but without a worthy opponent, he had plateaued. Cadet Heart seemed like she might be just the thing Acosta needed to step it up.

It even appeared to Seifer that Cadet Acosta was enjoying himself. For the first time in months, the boy didn't look bored, and twice now, Seifer had seen a look of surprised amusement on his face. That in itself was nothing short of miraculous. The only time Acosta looked amused was when Seifer was trying to psychoanalyze him in counseling.

Stone Acosta may have been the only human being Seifer had ever encountered who was completely immune to psychotherapy. He would spend the entire session doodling and either ignoring Seifer's questions or turn them back around on him before Seifer realized it. The boy claimed he didn't need therapy, that nothing Seifer said or did would change his past or his future, and that he knew himself inside and out, therefore therapy was a waste of time. After almost a year of sessions and three years of actually knowing the kid, Seifer was inclined to believe him.

Down below, the battle continued, now more heated than before, with each of them exchanging blow for blow and neither backing down. Both looked fierce and determined to win. Cadet Acosta brought his blade down hard, but Heart dodged it, then launched herself backwards, executing a graceful and devastating areal back flip. One of her feet caught Acosta in the chin, and her blade followed, hitting him hard in the face. He reeled backward, one hand clutched to his mouth, but readied himself to continue.

To Seifer's dismay, Instructor Tamiko stepped in, looking angry and ended the fight.

"I've seen enough of you!" he bellowed at Cadet Heart. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

The girl shrugged.

"This is a Gunblade training session, not an acrobatics class!" Tamiko ranted. "I don't know where you learned this nonsense, but you will not use these tactics in my classroom! Is that any way unclear?"

Cadet Heart shrugged again, but Seifer could see that she was furious.

Tamiko was an excellent instructor, but very by the book. Seifer could not allow the girl's potential to be limited by a black and white curriculum. Cadet Heart defied classification in terms of skill, and Tamiko tended to place his students into neatly defined boxes. Seifer would have to make it very, very clear to the instructor that he was not to limit Heart to a set of rules that obviously didn't apply to her. In the meantime, Seifer would see to it that Cadet Heart's classes would include both dance and martial arts.

Once the class ended, Seifer took the instructor aside.

"You are not to discourage Cadet Heart in training," Seifer commanded.

"She made a mockery of my class," Tamiko protested. "How am I to teach them how to properly use the weapon if one of them throws all the rules out the window?"

"Even you have to admit what she's done with it is brilliant," Seifer said. "Does she need discipline? Absolutely. Does she need to be taken down a notch or two? Yeah, she does. But clearly, the way we were trained doesn't apply to her."

"Then what do you propose we do, Commander?" Tamiko asked. "Let her do whatever she feels like in class? That sets a dangerous precedent. If I let her continue this, the others will follow her lead. I can't run a class that way."

"I hope the others do follow her lead," Seifer said. "To me, it looks like we have something to learn from the kid. She's doing things with that blade no one else has ever done before, so just because it doesn't fall into some category you can label doesn't mean it's wrong."

"I don't know how to teach what she knows, Commander," Tamiko admitted. "I agree that it's brilliant, even revolutionary, but if I can't teach her, what's the point of her being in my class? I'm too old to try and emulate her, and I wouldn't even know how to do half the things I saw today. How am I supposed to train her if nothing I know applies?"

"Well, for one, her defense is lacking," Seifer said. "Cadet Acosta shouldn't have been able to get in nearly as many hits as he did. She's fast enough that she should have been able to dodge most of them."

Seifer thought for a moment, then continued.

"The entire team needs work on their defense," he told Tamiko. "If Cadet Heart made a mockery of anything today, it was the other cadets, not your class. Consider it a favor to you that she was able to show you exactly where your focus with this group should be. Use her to teach them. Use her skill and her speed to teach them how to defend themselves."

Tamiko looked angry at being criticized, but took it under consideration.

A plan was starting to formulate in Seifer's mind. It was kind of crazy and unorthodox, but at the same time, it was a solution that should have been apparent from the first moment Acosta and Heart's blades clashed.

"I want to see Acosta and Heart training together from now on," Seifer said. "Against one another, and as a team against the others."

"That's a dangerous idea," Tamiko said.

Seifer laughed. It was a dangerous idea. Tamiko had that right. Under the right circumstances, the two might be very dangerous indeed. It was a gamble, but Seifer sensed that if the two could work together, they would be a force to be reckoned with. He wanted them to know one another's fighting style and habits. He wanted them to constantly up the ante. He wanted to seem them figure out a way to work together and play off one another's strengths. With that kind of competition, the rest of the team would be forced into the challenge.

He knew this plan could backfire. While he wasn't concerned with the pair developing a romantic relationship because of Cadet Heart's history, he was concerned that he could be setting the stage for a rivalry similar to his own with Squall so long ago. When he thought about it, these two young cadets were very much like himself and Squall at that age. Acosta was the quiet loner with loads of unused potential, and Heart was the fiery hothead with more talent than she knew what to do with. The difference was, these two didn't have a history like he and Squall did. Neither of them cared about anything or anyone, and that hadn't been the case between Seifer and Squall.

No, with the right kind of guidance, this was a team that could change the game. At present, India was full of intelligent, talented fighters with a diverse skill set but had absolutely no ambition or direction. He had hoped when he put the original team together six months before that they would thrive and become the dream team he'd been looking for. Unfortunately, they hadn't lived up to his expectations.

He'd thought maybe the problem lay with the 6th (and now absent) member of the team, Gretchen Stark, who was erratic and unbalanced and had been diagnosed with multiple personality disorder two months into India's training. Her removal had been necessary, but it hadn't changed anything.

Seifer had hoped that one of the team would step up and be the leader. Julia Leonhart had filled that role, but not in the way Seifer had expected or wanted. Under her brand of leadership, the team had earned a reputation as a bunch of slackers, pranksters and troublemakers. And that was saying a lot given the givens. Perhaps with Acosta or Heart at the helm, things would change for the better. Janus Kohn, Lee Bartram and Nena Capria were all talented, but they were followers, and the followed the strongest in the pack. It was clear to Seifer that both Acosta and Heart were the strongest and if either chose to step up and lead, the others would fall in line behind them.

Seifer dismissed Instructor Tamiko and found Mick Lindsay, who was about to escort the group back to the dorm. He took the instructor aside and spelled out his plan for the pair and ordered Lindsay to make sure the two worked together as much as possible.

"You sure this is a good idea?" Lindsay asked. "I don't think either of them want what you're asking for. I can't say for certain about Cadet Heart, but I'm pretty sure Acosta just wants to paint. To hell with the rest of us."

"I'm not sure," Seifer admitted, "But this group has the most potential of any here. We both know that. They should be much further ahead than they are, and I'm holding you accountable."

"Me?"

"You've let Leonhart run that bunch into the ground," Seifer said. "They need a real leader, not someone who's more focused on making everyone around her feel like shit than getting through the training. Do what I ask, Lindsay."

"I'll give it a shot," Mick said doubtfully. "But don't hold me accountable if Heart starts a rebellion."

"You let me worry about that. If she gets out of line, I'll take care of it. Meantime, you make sure those two learn to work together. And keep Leonhart out of their way."

* * *

A/N:

Thanks for the reviews. I wasn't sure about this one, to be honest with you. I'm still not. I love the idea, and I love the story, and I'm actually very pleased with how it's turning out, I'm just not sure this is right for this Fandom. Still, readers demanded chapter two, so I must be doing something right.

To answer some questions:

The couple at the beginning:

I'm not telling yet. You can speculate all you want, though. I'm cool with that. Speculate away. I welcome it, but I'm still not telling. :)

Seifer's Role:

He has a fairly large part in this. His appearances will be fairly regular, probably at least once a chapter. In fact, the Redemption in the title applies to him as much as anyone else.

Where the idea came from:

I explained last chapter how the idea was formed, but Miri's character is loosely based on a friend's adopted daughter. At least, some of her experiences are, especially those experiences in foster care/group home situations. Not all foster homes are bad. Many of them are positive experiences, and the guardians truly care about the child they foster. (Case in point, my friend who fostered and then adopted the girl) but some stories are really, really heartbreaking and the damage done in those situations has a long lasting impact.

Other Cannon Characters:

Yes. There will be appearances from other FFVIII characters. Some will be minimal, some may have major, pivotal roles in this. Not telling until I post it. Ha.

What about "Stealing the Moon?"

I'm still working on the next chapter. Should be updated this week (today is 11/2, just for reference sake). I went one way with it, and then changed it up because it was more fun.

And finally, a big thanks to those of you that took the time to review. I appreciate your support, comments, feedback and criticisms. Keep 'em coming!


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